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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23890018">Cherub Venom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Classpectanon/pseuds/Classpectanon'>Classpectanon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck, Marvel, Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Body Horror, Gen, Other, POV Multiple, Secret Identity, Symbiotes (Marvel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:00:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,423</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23890018</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Classpectanon/pseuds/Classpectanon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He could hear the smarmy smirk in his head. The gnashing, short-toothed grin. He could feel her phalanges wiggling around underneath his skin, just itching to burst through the pores. "Terezi. Whatever weird alien games you're playing with this Hannibal Lecter motherfucker, I want nothing to do with them."</p><p>"Don't you care about saving human lives, human coolkid?"</p><p>Dave flopped onto his bed, grabbing his laptop against a struggling arm. "Not particularly. I care about fresh jams, sick rhymes, and hot beats. You're the police dog around here." He replied, trying to open his laptop and failing. "And I don't know if you noticed but I never filled out my adoption papers. I haven't went through handler training and frankly I don't think you've ever been to pooch school."</p><p>"Are you saying you'd like to domesticate me, coolkid? How salacious. We're afraid if you're looking to betroth us you'll require permission from our spawnsire, who is still on our homeworld. And we are afraid we cannot leave this place until Vriska and Karkat are apprehended."</p><p>-----</p><p>Homestuck X Venom. Does not necessarily adhere to the canon of each.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jade Harley &amp; Karkat Vantas, John Egbert &amp; Vriska Serket, Rose Lalonde &amp; Kanaya Maryam, Terezi Pyrope &amp; Dave Strider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cherub Venom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It's not quite as much as I'd like to put out but I also needed this idea bunny out of my head so that I could continue it later at not 4 in the morning. Please, do enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="dave">"And this is a nacho. Can you say that, Terezi? Nacho. Na. Cho. God's gift to grub."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="terezi">We heard you the first time, human coolkid. The carbohydrate square intrigues us. What is that atop it?</span>
</p><p>Dave Strider's plate of nachos were not anything to write home about to anyone else besides Dave Strider. They consisted of about half a bag of tortilla chips dumped in layers onto a microwave-safe plate. A small sprinkling of shredded, cornstarch-coated Mexican cheese blend was deposited on the bottom of the plate, then chips, then more shredded cheese, then chips, then more shredded cheese, followed by 5 slices of salty, processed deli American. Frankly, they were disgusting -- the cheese composition inevitably made the bottom layer of chips soggy, and he would always have to scrape the microwave-burnt cheese dregs off the bottom of the plate with his blunt nails. Awful. Disgusting. Delightful.</p><p><span class="dave">"Firstly, they're triangles,"</span> Dave retaliated, consuming one of the topmost layer with gusto. <span class="dave">"Not squares. I'm not sure what your homeworld is like but if they can't figure out basic geometry first grade shit like this I'm not sure how any of you achieved spaceflight--"</span></p><p>
  <span class="terezi">We launch ourselves--</span>
</p><p><span class="dave">"No, I <em>know</em>, you've explained it to me."</span> Dave replied, with a mouth full of masticated corn tortilla chips glommed together with particularly sticky saliva droolings. He couldn't help the way his - their - new tongue coiled around each morsel of food, as if spreading it along, increasing its surface area for maximum flavor extraction. He had to physically strain his wrist muscles to prevent his hands from just smashing the plate against his face like Eric Andre in that one Hot Ones interview, if only to stuff his face with increased frequency and efficiency. That being said, holding back both his hands and his neck was exhausting to the point where he gave in and allowed his improper throat spasms to bring his face face-to-face with fried fromage fallen atop crunchy soggy chips. <span class="dave">"I'm making fun of you, TZ. These are what us humans call the "gigglesnorts". You know, like a joke?"</span></p><p>
  <span class="terezi">We <em>have</em> gigglesnorts on our homeworld, human coolkid. What is the congealed salt product? We demand answers.</span>
</p><p>Dave can't help but laugh through sharp, pointed, gremlin-like teeth. <span class="dave">"It's called cheese. Straight from the cow titty."</span> He reaches up and pushes a protruding incisor back into his gumline, where it slithers into the rest of his skull with a disquieting amount of smoothness. <span class="dave">"You basically grope the cow until it spits milk at you and then you throw some nasty bacteria in the milk so it turns into squeaky jello."</span></p><p>
  <span class="terezi">That sounds disgusting.</span>
</p><p><span class="dave">"You sound disgusting. Now hush up."</span> He drawled, his tongue helping clean the plate of dregs of cheese grease, prying off little burnt, hardened bits far more effectively than any amount of fingernail prying could accomplish. Terezi's control over his arms and legs almost makes him walk his way right into the door, and then the window, but a little bit of mental elbow grease and he manages to get the dish to the sink.</p><p><span class="dave">"There. Carbohydrate loaded. Breakfast of champions. Can I study now?"</span> Dave asked, to nobody in particular. His voice rang out in the air but there was nobody in the room along with him. This was clear as day to anyone who would be expected to behold him. His dorm room was absolutely empty, save for him and the voice in his head.</p><p>
  <span class="terezi">Of course, human coolkid! You are free to mentally review your learning material while we go out on patrol.</span>
</p><p>He could hear the smarmy smirk in his head. The gnashing, short-toothed grin. He could feel her phalanges wiggling around underneath his skin, just itching to burst through the pores. <span class="dave">"<em>Terezi</em>. Whatever weird alien games you're playing with this Hannibal Lecter motherfucker, I want nothing to do with them."</span></p><p>
  <span class="terezi">Don't you care about saving human lives, human coolkid?</span>
</p><p>Dave flopped onto his bed, grabbing his laptop against a struggling arm. <span class="dave">"Not particularly. I care about fresh jams, sick rhymes, and hot beats. You're the police dog around here."</span> He replied, trying to open his laptop and failing. <span class="dave">"And I don't know if you noticed but I never filled out my adoption papers. I haven't went through handler training and frankly I don't think you've ever been to pooch school."</span></p><p>
  <span class="terezi">Are you saying you'd like to domesticate me, coolkid? How salacious. We're afraid if you're looking to betroth us you'll require permission from our spawnsire, who is still on our homeworld. And we are afraid we cannot leave this place until Vriska and Karkat are apprehended.</span>
</p><p><span class="dave">"God, you've got a gab on you, girl."</span> Dave groaned. Little striations of teal and red sparked across his skin, snaking splitting spears of surface tension through the topsoil of the epidermis. He switched the tab on his open laptop over to notes about frequency and audio waves. Logic Pro, grab the midi keyboard, ignore the alien in your skull. Simple as. <span class="dave">"When did I graduate from "human coolkid" to just "coolkid"? Am I rising in the ranks? When do I get to become Da Chief in your precinct so I can get you off this fuckin' case?"</span></p><p>
  <span class="terezi">We are no "girl", human coolkid, we just <em>are</em>.</span>
</p><p>Dave smirked. Audio waves. Hz. He tapped out metronomic melodies with a single hand and scratched at his crotch with the other, letting the laptop rest on his chest. <span class="dave">"Whatever floats your boat, symbiote coolgirl."</span></p><p>Dave's laptop suddenly found a new resting place indenting his skull. He reared back, howling with pain, before his neck violently wrenched backwards, muffling himself into a pillow. While one hand valiantly managed to fling his laptop onto his desk in a relatively stable configuration (that shit was worth more than he was, after all), Dave himself had to be subject to the uniquely unpleasant experience of having his cracked skull bone knit itself back together. If only he had a Windows machine, maybe it would've shattered the laptop on impact, but instead, he had to contend with the interesting and fun new experience of having a broken spine and then suddenly no longer having a broken spine.</p><p>
  <span class="terezi">We're going, human coolkid "Strider". Whether or not you are conscious during this is of no concern to us.</span>
</p><p><span class="dave">"One day..."</span> Dave slurred, sticky symbiote fluid oozing out of his pores like the worst sweat in the world. Dark, grimy teal with lightning-like streaks of bright candy red. <span class="dave">"I am going to go to that church in fuckin'... Norway, from the Wintergatan vids. Or some shit. Or a Death Grips concert. And I am going to play the <em>loudest</em> Glockenspiel specifically to spite you."</span></p><p>His limbs moved without his active input, push-upping himself from the bed and beginning to slink out from over top the sheets. Nerves knit themselves back together with all the efficiency of the world's most skilled seamstresses. <span class="dave">"It's going to be fucking apocalyptic. The soundwaves alone will cause everyone in a 10 mile radius to shit themselves. I will vibrate you into your constituent atoms with the world's most powerful sonic weapon -- MC Ride. Call me Anthony Fantano because I am going to be face deep in that man's crotch getting you acoustically sandblasted out of my skin through every method possible."</span></p><p>
  <span class="terezi">You almost make it sound like you don't like us, human coolkid.</span>
</p><p><span class="dave">"No shit I don't like you. You make my life a living hell comparable only to that described in Dante's <em>Inferno</em>. It's like being forced to read YouTube comments. It's worse than Ann Coulter -- you're worse than Ann Coulter."</span> Dave rambled on, even as his body grew into a slender, almost draconic, teal-red thing. He could feel his eyes filling with blood, and he was not cool with that.</p><p>
  <span class="terezi">Human coolkid, we are inside of your head. We know when you are stealing human gigglesnorts from the entertainment video entitled "Super Mario Frustration". You are not as clever or original as you think you are.</span>
</p><p>Dave grunted. <span class="dave">"Now, if that's not the meanest thing I've ever gone and did hear get told to me."</span> He grumbled. <span class="dave">"This week."</span></p><p>
  <span class="terezi">Are you finally getting over your strange human hangups about enforcing the law, so that we may go perform our <em>very important</em> job?</span>
</p><p><span class="dave">"<em>Birdy the Mighty</em> lookin' ass..."</span> Dave muttered to himself angrily. <span class="dave">"<em>Tetsuwan Birdy Decode</em> lookin' ass. Whatever. If I say yes will you not break my neck again?"</span></p><p>
  <span class="terezi">We make no promises, human coolkid. But we will <em>try</em>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">"Whatever. I'll take it"</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="terezi">An excellent choice!</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All comments, kudos, bookmarks, and views are seen, noted, and greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.</p><p>  <a href="https://twitter.com/classpectanon">Twitter</a><br/><a href="https://classpectanon.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a><br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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